


near morning.

by oliwellwhocares



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Hallucinations Mention, M/M, Memory Loss, Sex Work, honestly it's pretty much what you should expect from dimitri and felix's dead brother, i mean it's dimitri, the abyss - Freeform, they're in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliwellwhocares/pseuds/oliwellwhocares
Summary: And there’s Glenn Fraldarius, who died four years ago, sitting on a man’s lap.Dimitri meets a ghost of a new kind.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Glenn Fraldarius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	near morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course yes i'm writing like, sylvix and berniepetra and stuff but the first thing i actually finish is about the dead brother. Well. This is an original idea from @eggyankee on twitter, if you see this i hope you like it
> 
> Also i've never played the game and neither did my beta so. the plot is literally paper thin.

Dimitri isn’t supposed to be wandering off. Well, none of them is supposed to, they’re already in a messy enough situation just staying with their professor and their unlikely guides. 

It’s night, they’re told. It doesn’t change anything. The lights, the sounds, the people’s movements are just the same. But it is night, and so, they sleep.

Two of them and one of the strange leaders of this place keep watch at the same time. Dimitri volunteered for the first turn, weakly hoping that keeping an eye on their host, the one named Constance, any threats incoming, and Linhardt Von Hevring’s side, as he was not the most reliable guard, might wear him out enough to catch a little bit of sleep afterwards.

He has no such luck, obviously. He has probably been trying to sleep for the best part of the night now, Hilda and Edelgard’s shift passing, and the voices in his ears are still way too loud for him to even try and close his eyes. 

Behind a corner, next room over, is Claude now, and he can barely hear him talk softly with the man named Balthus, whose large back is slightly visible from his place on the floor. 

When he stands up, Ashe turns around immediately. He says something about sleep, too softly to really decipher, the only clear part being “Your Highness”, at the end. If it’s a plea to go back to sleep, Dimitri is just too polite, and really too tired to tell him that he wishes for nothing more. 

The archer looks a little panicked when his prince approaches him, and he spares a glance to the forms sleeping to the other side of the room. They’re not moving, Hilda and Linhardt still in an impressive contest to determine who can take up the most place in their sleep, while the professor is playing the opposite game of being as still as possible. Edelgard is turned towards their professor and the rest of them, her back against the wall, and Dimitri shivers while he stares at the white strands covering her face. Her breathing has been strange for the whole night, and even now, he cannot tell whether she’s awake or not.

Ashe’s shuffling draws Dimitri's attention back to him. “I won’t go far,” he murmurs to him, and his sweet, anguished face is almost enough to change his mind, but he cannot lay still any longer.

For what it’s worth, he really doesn’t intend to go far. The point is just to keep his mind busy, so he starts by walking around the building they’re in, slowly, paying attention to his surroundings. He would rather avoid a fight if he can.

The first time he walks by the south wall, there are several voices afar, too faint to be intelligible, but that’s not what calls him. He cannot even really distinguish the voices from one another, but still, one of them grabs something in him, awakens an emotion he cannot understand. 

He keeps listening, while he keeps walking and eventually, the voices fade, even though the feeling doesn’t. 

Someone follows him while he nears the end of his first round, but Dimitri makes his steps heavy and flashes his sword, and they're gone.

He tenses when he approaches the south wall again, the tugging in his chest a little more potent. His route doesn’t change, he still walks five feet away from the building, but he tenses, and listens. 

At first, there’s nothing. Voices again, vague and muddled, almost like his own voices can be sometimes. The feeling in him stretches still, away from him, but there’s nothing he even vaguely recognises this time.

He’s nearing the end of the wall, oddly disappointed, when there’s a cry.

It’s soft, either that or far away, and he certainly wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t been looking for something. As it is, he heard it, and he’s walking towards it before he even realises that this is  _ it.  _ This is the voice he heard before, the one he was looking for just now. 

He ventures between buildings, trying to keep his memory of the sound as precise as possible. It came from behind him, just a little bit, and probably ground level, not that there’s any building very high in the area. 

He follows his faint memory and the feeling in him for a few minutes before he hears it again, two sounds in close succession this time.

This time, it reminds him of something else. He cannot grasp it any more that the first impression, but it’s closer, and less emotional. 

It’s a little difficult to think about it when he’s trying to guide himself from three sounds alone, but at least those last ones were closer, rising with the thing inside him. 

He takes a turn, walks a few steps. Behind a corner, there are only ruins, one building still barely standing, and he turns around when he hears it the fourth time. Even softer than before, but unmistakably coming from behind him. 

He’s at the rotting, half open wooden door when he recognises the close memory that the sounds had awaken.  _ It’s the sounds coming from Sylvain’s room when he’s entertaining girls. _

He jerks in shock at the realisation, and doesn’t have the time to dive into the first, more emotional memory that brought him here. The door opens, creaking, and there’s Glenn Fraldarius, who died four years ago, sitting on a man’s lap.

Awareness comes to him in waves: when the first one hits, it’s about everything that is not Glenn. There’s the dust rising up around them; the hole in the ceiling, to the left; the way the man’s face is scrunched up; how big his hands look, gripping slender thighs.

Then the sounds: the door, squeaking while it half-closes back behind him; labored breath, coming from the man, again; and tiny creaking from the wood he’s sitting on.

Glenn is not making any sounds anymore, and Dimitri is speaking before he realises that.

“Let him go,” he says, and he doesn’t recognise his voice. Or, he recognises it, but it’s from moments he’d rather forget about. Battles, trials, moment of anger. Not the day of Glenn’s death. When he and his parents died, he didn’t say anything.

The man has opened his eyes now, and he’s staring at him, but he’s not moving.

“Let him go,” he says again, and his voice is so much worse.

While the man stands up, and pulls his clothes back hurriedly, Dimitri finally looks at Glenn.

He looks like him. He looks like Dimitri’s memories, and like the ghost that visits him day and night, and he looks like Felix.

He’s also very different.

His hair is dark, perfectly straight, falling messily around his shoulders and on his torso, typical Fraldarius hair, way longer than Glenn ever wore it.

His eyes are dark, barely a hint of blue, piercing through him. His ghost’s eyes are the exact same color, but he had never able to reproduce that gaze the Glenn in front of him is sporting now-- the one Felix could never match when they were young. This Glenn has his left eye completely opened, staring at him, and while the right one is no less striking, it’s half closed, surrounded by red, scarred skin. Like a Thoron spell poorly healed.

The scar runs down his face, and he’s exactly as beautiful as Dimitri remembers, though in a completely different way. The red thins in a jagged line down his neck, and blooms again on his shoulder, disappearing under the loose black fabric.

For an intensely guilty second, Dimitri feels conflicting relief and regret at said fabric covering his chest, before Glenn speaks.

“Are you gonna pay for him?”

Standing up, he’s strangely smaller than his ghost, his eyes reaching up to Dimitri’s shoulders.

“Are you gonna pay?”, he asks again, and his voice is exactly the same, soothing in its complete calm.

“If you want to take his place,” it’s barely higher than Felix’s voice, “I still have a few minutes,” his left foot doesn’t make a sound, but the right shoe hits the ground a little more harshly, “but it will cost extra,” his ankles bear a few thin scars, but the red Thoron scar stops above the knee, “even for you,” it covers the outside of his right thigh, but the inside was apparently preserved, and the skin seems terribly smooth, “pretty boy,” Glenn calls him, and he touches him.

According to Dimitri’s heart, beating like it’s its last chance to do so, Glenn may as well have thrown his entire body at him, or punched him in the gut. What actually happens is, he touches his cheek. 

“Glenn,” Dimitri says, with a more human voice, and “if you’re paying, sure”, Glenn answers.

“Sure,” Dimitri repeats. “Glenn.” He says again. 

“Yes,” says Glenn, turning around, and it’s painfully, terribly obvious that he doesn’t recognises the name at all. 

He doesn’t say anything then, just sighs softly, while the hand that was on his cheek slips behind his neck, and he lies back against him.

Most of his hair is spilling against his right side, brushing against Dimitri, his arm, and dragging Glenn’s shirt to the side the slightest bit. Dimitri barely has to look down to see all of Glenn’s body, his legs pushing him up so his back can press against Dimitri’s chest, and the scar that indeed runs down, down to his hip, where the fabric falls back, and it picks back up on his thigh. The other half of his chest is hidden, and Glenn’s hand grips his hair while he pushes himself a little bit higher, and Dimitri thinks that maybe he is finally completely losing his mind. 

Glenn’s right hand tangles in his own hair while it slips behind them, out of Dimitri’s eyes but he feels a soft pressure on his lower back, pushing him forward against Glenn who is pushing himself back, and oh. He’s definitely, truly mad now, because there is no other explanation for Glenn Fraldarius squeezing his hip and rubbing his backside against him, tugging on Dimitri’s hair softly and letting his head fall on his shoulder. Glenn is standing on tiptoes now, and while Dimitri is desperately looking at his feet, he bends his right leg a little, slips his foot behind Dimitri’s ankle, a little higher, and so he has no hope of reacting coherently when Glenn speaks again.

“It’s ten gold coins.”

His voice sounds a little different than before, just a little rougher. The shorter strands around his face are tickling Dimitri’s neck.

“What?” He thinks he probably just sounds like confusion itself.

“Ten gold coins. I don’t have a lot of time left, but like I said, you’re paying for the other guy too.” 

There’s a lot that Dimitri realises at this moment. He realises why Glenn is doing this, and what he was doing with the man earlier, and the price that he is asking for this, and how much this shouldn’t be happening. Unfortunately, the realisation that takes up most of his thoughts is that the hem of Glenn’s shirt is stuck on Dimitri’s stomach, riding up, and that from where he is he can see the uninterrupted skin of his left leg, the way it goes all the way up above his thigh, and how it reddens a little bit where it has been rubbing against the man earlier, and against Dimitri’s pants now. 

So none of the explanations he wanted to either give or ask for actually comes out, and he says “You can’t”, more choked up than he ever heard himself, and then he scrambles to fix this mess. “I mean it’s not… the worth… No, I mean, please, Glenn please, you shouldn’t-”

“Should I be offended,” Glenn says, with the same barely breathless voice, “because you’re telling me I’m cheap,” he lifts his head from Dimitri’s shoulder, and he’s staring at him with his terribly piercing eyes, and Dimitri’s really an expert at doing the worst possible thing, isn’t he. “Or should it be because you’re telling me I’m worth less than ten coins.”

“It’s not that, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I only mean,” by the Goddess what does he even  _ mean _ , “you shouldn’t be doing that,” is that what he means? Surely not, because that makes Glenn glare a little harder, and he takes a tiny step away from Dimitri, and it’s only then that Dimitri realises that he was holding his hips. How could he let this happen. How hard was he even holding him, he might have harmed him…

“Shouldn’t I? You certainly seemed to appreciate me  _ doing that _ ”. Glenn holds his eyes while he bends down suddenly, reconnecting their lower bodies and his shirt is  _ still _ riding up and even falls a little further up on his bent back and now all of his skin is on display, pressed against him but he can see his own hands coming closer so he can stop them, pushing them against each other behind his back, so hard and sudden that it makes him lose his balance for a second, take a step back. It has the awful, terrible effect of letting him see all of Glenn for a second, all his scars and skin and the pink and  _ everything _ ; at least, it also has the wonderful effect of making Glenn suddenly stand up, back on flat feet, facing him. Or maybe this is not wonderful at all. It’s hard to know anymore. 

“Fine.” Back to his normal voice. Still, like every version of him, it digs into Dimitri’s chest, pulling a part of himself out. “Pay up and we’re done here, then.”

Something old inside him reacts automatically by obeying anything Glenn says in that casual, barely angry only to those who know him tone, and so he has his hand on his pouch before he can realise it, and pauses there when he does. 

Glenn’s face twitches, like the threat of a frown, and Dimitri detaches the bag containing his coins and hands it to him.

He steps closer with his lips pursed, and starts to ruffle through it while Dimitri doesn’t know what shade of horror to feel anymore. He thinks Glenn might have tsked, but he doesn’t think he could hear it with the blood pounding in his ears. It makes him realise, suddenly, that he hasn’t heard his ghosts during the whole… exchange, and isn’t that the strangest thing.

He still manages to say “Take it all,” and this time Glenn makes a sound for sure, his lips twisting, but he still doesn’t hear it. “I don’t need”, at the beginning, and then at the end, “pity”, maybe, or “charity”. He’s shaking his head, and Dimitri starts to hear again, faintly, either from reality or his ghosts. They’ve always been hard to separate, and he doesn’t know how he could now. 

Sounds and reality and calls of his name from maybe, his dead father, or his alive professor, or anyone else, matter way less when Glenn slips the coins in the pants he’s pulling up his legs, and when he walks away.

“Glenn,” he either whispers or shouts, he hopes he’s shouting, “don’t-” it’s stuck. His voice sticks in his throat, his feet stick to the ground, and Glenn is slipping away. Not like his ghosts, not fading, or maybe he is, or maybe not, no, it’s him, his eyelids are stuck too and his eyes are dry, his vision wavering. Glenn is here, still, it’s him, he’s at the other side of the room and he’s covered in black hair, and the scar is so big, it can’t be him. He looks so much like him, but it cannot be, he sees Glenn every day, he follows him always, wherever he goes, so it cannot be, or maybe another ghost, of a different kind. A different Glenn. 

His tongue rises slowly, his lips tear apart from each other, and he’s certainly not shouting now, but he can only pray that it’ll still be enough. “-go.”

His vision is still swimming, so he cannot be sure, but he thinks, it feels like, he sees Glenn looking sad, leaning towards him, just the slightest bit, just maybe. 

“Go, Dima,” he thinks he hears him say. 

When the professor finds him, he’s alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading this, it's the most sexual thing i ever wrote and i'm extremely embarassed about it lmao, please tell me if you liked this, i'm oliwellwhocares on tumblr and twitter too if you want to, idk, i just am, again please leave a comment if you enjoyed! okay good night!


End file.
